Dance for the Doctor
by aisucreamu
Summary: A greedy potentate, a harem, an extremely irritated Clara Oswald and a kidnapped teen all create some very special trouble for the Eleventh Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**_I may have listened to Jai Ho by the Pussycat Dolls a few too many times lately, and this appears to be the result. Sorry not sorry._**

**_This takes place sometime after The Name of the Doctor. I guess it could be placed after Day of the Doctor, too. Let's just say Time of the Doctor doesn't even factor into this version of the continuing story of Eleven and Clara. _**

In the court of the potentate of the kingdom of Pastish, on the planet Alahabrian, Clara Oswald sat patiently while two young females who she suspected were slaves styled her hair. She let them play with it, twisting part of it into a bun on the back of her head, and leaving the rest down around her shoulders. She wasn't surprised they were intrigued by it; the denizens of this planet had hair like flat, thick strands of yarn, in neutral colors like grey, black and taupe. None of them had soft, fine chestnut strands like Clara's crowning glory.

On her brow they placed a circlet made of fine gold chain, with a ruby red gem in the center, just above and between her eyebrows. Around her neck they laid a matching strand of gold chain and small red gems. On her wrists they placed golden bangle bracelets. Then they backed away from her, bowing as they went.

Clara stood up. She was dressed in something she would have called a harem costume; a gold and red low necked bodice that left her midriff and arms bare, and red trousers of a shiny red-gold pleated material that sat low on her hips, exposing her belly button. On her feet were red slippers with gold embroidery. A thin gold chain was slung around her waist. And a sheer red silk-like shawl completed the costume. The whole thing smacked of the Arabian Nights, and Clara felt ridiculous, exposed and a bit exploited in it.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. This was the Doctor's entire fault. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the scene several hours previously, before they had exited the TARDIS and entered the city.

"You see, Clara," the Doctor stated, his voice sounding a bit nervous. (Clara knew exactly why it had now.) "The ruler of this city is rather like a caliph from old Bagdad. His word is absolute law. We've got to be a bit crafty in how we go about this."

They were on the track of a kidnapper who had absconded with the teenage daughter of the president on a nearby planet they'd been visiting the day before. They'd helped rescue the residents from an infestation of Wirrn, and earned the president's profuse thanks. During the banquet following the destruction of the Wirrn colony, the president's daughter was taken. The Doctor had traced the kidnapper's spaceship to Pastish, and had suspected the worst—that the president's daughter was going to be installed in the caliph's harem, owing to the tales of her legendary beauty that the caliph had heard.

The Doctor, his expression just a tad too cheery (Clara ground her teeth as she remembered it), continued expounding on his plan to rescue the president's daughter. "The caliph is the only male allowed to enter into the harem, considering it's his wives, after all. Which makes it a very delicate situation for us in getting the president's daughter out. That's where you come in."

He'd made it sound like something only Clara could do—like she was the only one suited for the job. In reality Clara figured anyone with two X chromosomes would have been acceptable to him. She just happened to be handy.

"What we'll do is have you enter the harem, find the president's daughter, sneak out and join back up with me at a prearranged spot. Easy!" He waved his arms out and grinned. Clara gave him a piercing look.

"And how am I supposed to get into the harem?" she queried, eyebrow raised. Something was starting to smell very fishy about all this.

"Why, as a new bride, of course," he answered, like it was the most sensible part of the plan.

"WHOSE new bride?" she demanded, poking him in the chest with her index finger.

"The caliph's, who else?" he answered, giving her a look that said _really, Clara, it's quite obvious!_

Clara blinked at him twice. "Are you seriously suggesting that we're going to offer me as more fodder for his harem?" Her voice rose in volume as she contemplated his mad idea.

"It's either that or be sold to the harem as a new slave," he reasoned, leaning on one hand against the TARDIS' console. "Take your pick. We don't have any other options."

And so Clara and the Doctor had entered the city, and after a glance at the Doctor's psychic paper, had been ushered into the caliph's presence. The caliph appeared to be under the impression that the Doctor was a visiting dignitary, which the Doctor happily went along with. The worst part was when he announced he had brought a present for the caliph's harem—a new bride.

Clara did not like the lascivious gleam that lit up the caliph's eye with that news. Especially since he was a fat old thing with three chins and a couple of warts on his nose.

Things moved a little too fast for Clara after that—she found herself ushered rapidly by two female slaves into a set of rooms far from the throne room, curtained and gated off from prying male eyes and guarded by fierce looking oversized monitor lizard creatures. Clara was giving her chances of getting out of there intact on the low side. She inwardly cursed the Doctor.

Not long, however, after she'd got into the harem, she encountered the president's daughter, Belletriam—scared, but unstained (the caliph hadn't had a chance to bring her into the royal bedroom quite yet). Clara reassured Belletriam that she was there to get them both out and back to her father. Belletriam wept at the news, and Clara felt there was some good in this crazy plan.

That didn't last long, when Clara was informed by one of the female slaves that not only was she expected to be brought to the caliph's bedroom tonight, she was expected to dance for him and his guests—including the Doctor (Clara had asked specifically if he was to be there)-at the banquet beforehand.

Clara's list of names she mentally started calling the Doctor increased at that moment with some choice Gallifreyan ones she remembered from one of her echoes, as well as some nasty Cockney insults from her Victorian barmaid echo. This was the limit.

Still, there was chance they could make this work. She'd noticed a garden that opened off one of the rooms in the harem, and at one end next to the wall were some tall trees that looked relatively easy to climb. Once darkness arrived, and before she got dragged off to the caliph, she and Belletriam could try making their escape up the trees and over the wall. Then she could signal the Doctor to come rescue them, using a small homing device he'd implanted in her palm (that was another thing she had a hard time forgiving him for. He'd told her it wouldn't hurt. Rule number one: the Doctor lies).

The slaves had come not long after that, and dressed Clara up in this harem outfit. Narrowing her eyes, Clara thought long and hard about what the Doctor must be up to while she was locked up here in the harem, awaiting her fate. Probably living in the lap of luxury, enjoying some decadent banquet. Really, it was more than she could bear.

And then an idea came to Clara—a perfectly sneaky idea of getting revenge on the Doctor for all this.


	2. Chapter 2

Clara's plan depended on the Doctor's obvious but verbally unexpressed affection for her. She'd suspected, ever since the day they'd gone to Hedgewick's World, and the Cyber Planner had inhabited him, that the Doctor really did fancy her—it wasn't just her imagination. So far he hadn't told her so in plain words—but there were just some things you couldn't ignore when someone touched you a little too often, stood too close to you, looked at you a lot more tenderly than anyone else did and hugged you a little too tight and too long.

So! There was only one thing to do, dressed as she was in a skimpy costume she wasn't comfortable in and blamed him entirely for.

Drive him utterly mad with desire.

In the caliph's elaborately bedizened banqueting hall, the Doctor sat comfortably on a set of cushions on the floor, near the caliph himself. As an honored guest, he had been favored with some of the choicest morsels offered by the caliph's chefs. Some of the items had been quite inedible by the Doctor's tastes (one of the dishes tasted suspiciously like beans, which the Doctor loathed) and some he had almost inhaled (the custardy-tasting fruit had been quite nice). Now he relaxed, listening to the music being played by the caliph's musicians. It had a sound and beat reminiscent of the kind of music played in old Bollywood musicals. The Doctor wondered if some of those in some video form had made it this far out into the universe.

The caliph clapped his hands, and turned to the Doctor. "Now, my friend," he leered, "for the main entertainment." The music started up again, and the Doctor bounced his head to its lively beat. A serving girl bent to refill his glass with a pomegranate like juice, and while he was distracted, he failed to notice the veiled female figure who entered, gyrating to the music, at the other end of the room. Moving her hips rapidly to the increasing tempo of the music, the figure drifted across the room towards the caliph and the Doctor. The caliph laughed wickedly at the sensuous movement of her abdomen. The Doctor, still smiling, looked up towards the dancer, who had reached the dais where the caliph and the Doctor sat. He lifted the goblet to his mouth just as she twitched her hips right in front of him. With a sudden movement, she jerked her veil off, revealing the face of a smirking Clara Oswald to the Doctor's shocked eyes. Half his drink exploded out of his glass as he reacted to the revelation. With eyes wider than Clara ever thought he could get them, and juice dripping off his oversized chin, he stared at her, mouth hanging open.

Clara (she was so glad she'd taken those Zumba classes!) took advantage of his attention, and increased her gyrating, making her moves even more sensuous, and gesturing towards him as if to beckon him to her. If she had to admit it, it was quite distracting to see how fixated he was on her. With a preoccupied motion, he wiped the juice off his chin with one hand and slowly set the goblet down. His eyes never left her the whole time.

She twirled and spun around the room, waving her veil as she danced. The Doctor followed her every move. Her heart began to beat faster as she considered his attention on herself. Yeah, she'd planned on teasing him, but hadn't realized he'd be this…well…easy to lure. It gave her a feeling of exhilaration. She revved up the alluring aspect of the dance, and gave him some very steamy looks through half lidded eyes.

The Doctor sat mesmerized. He'd never seen this side of Clara Oswald before. Oh, sure, he'd noticed how appealing those flirty little skirts she wore were. He'd been captivated by her luminous brown eyes, her chocolate brown hair, those maddeningly engaging dimples around her mouth and her magnetic personality. But never had he seen her playing the part of a…well…temptress…before. His breathing was speeding up, and his hearts were pounding in his chest. He tried to step outside of the effects and analyze it from a purely scientific aspect, reasoning with himself that the appeal lay mostly in the fact that she was…well…more exposed than she normally was, and she was moving in a rather…more seductive…manner than she normally did. But then he had to admit to himself that it actually was affecting him in a way she'd never done before. And then he lost the scientific part of it altogether, when he realized he actually liked it. He swallowed with a loud gulp.

Dancing up to him again, Clara took her veil and wrapped it around his torso, tugging him towards her. "Dance with me," she breathed in his face, a beguiling look gracing her features. As if in a daze, he rose up and followed her into the middle of the room, where he stood immobile in a near stupor, his eyes watching her every move. She twirled and twitched around him, wiggling her hips and tossing her head, waving her scarf and smiling seductively the whole time.

At that moment, they existed in their own world together. The Doctor, watching her with a hungry look in his eyes, and Clara, feeling the power of a woman who has captivated the man she wants most in the world. She had lost any and all desire for revenge against him. He forgot his natural reticence towards her.

She swirled around and faced him, then tossed her scarf around the back of his neck. With a slight tug, she pulled his face lower towards hers. To the Doctor, the sight of Clara, her hair tousled around her face from dancing, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, looked like the most wonderful thing in the entire universe to him at that moment. In her eyes he saw an invitation to move closer, and do something he had never had the courage to do before, but had desired many, many times to attempt.

He leaned in toward her, their faces mere inches apart. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. His green eyes mesmerized her; she felt like she could fall into the depths of those orbs like a deep ocean and never surface. His hands reached out to her and she felt the lightest touch of his fingertips on her bare arms. It was electric, and with it came something else. His voice whispered softly in her mind, and Clara realized he was communicating with her telepathically. His gentle touch on her skin had given him access to her psyche.

_You are the air I breathe, the reason for each breath I take_

With his words, Clara's irises dilated, until they were pools of night sky, and her lips softly parted. She had never heard him speak in such a wildly romantic manner. It was producing some rather stimulating results that affected her equilibrium.

_You are the beats of my hearts, the reason they keep on beating_

_You are my soul mate, the reason my soul wants to go on living_

With that declaration Clara felt her body limply drop towards the Doctor, like a magnet had pulled her to him. His arms received her and wrapped themselves around her, as their lips met.

The kiss was heady; his mouth moved over hers, pressing and pulling, until her head was dizzy. She could taste him, and it was sweet to her, making her want more. Her arms encircled his neck and she wrapped her hands around the back of his head. His tongue lightly touched her lips and she sighed. Nothing else in the universe existed in that moment except for Clara's desire to keep feeling his mouth on hers.

It was heaven on earth-at least until a very loud voice behind them interrupted things.

"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF MY NEWEST BRIDE!"


	3. Chapter 3

Clara came back to the real world with a jolt. She pulled her lips from the Doctor's with a loud smacking sound, and turned to look at the irate potentate, whose face was becoming an unpleasant shade of purple. The Doctor, a bit more addled than Clara, took a moment longer to give him his full attention. Even then the Doctor still looked like he didn't fully comprehend the dangerous condition they were now in.

"What is the meaning of this?" bellowed the caliph, standing to his full height, which wasn't much taller than Clara herself. The whole court had gone deathly quiet.

"Ah," the Doctor began, finally grasping the gravity of the situation. "Er, it's not quite how it looks," he lamely ended.

"And how can it look any better than it does?" the caliph coldly asked. "You are embracing my bride and taking liberty with the lips that should belong strictly to me now."

The Doctor jumped a foot from Clara, who hugged herself with her arms and sidled away from him. Both of them had flushed faces.

"You see," the Doctor stated, pointing a finger towards the ceiling, "in my culture, this is how we say goodbye."

"If that's so," the caliph blustered, "it had better be expressed by shaking hands."

"Good idea," the Doctor replied. Turning to Clara, he stuck out his hand. "Let's shake on it, like His Royal Highness says."

Clara looked at his hand for a second like it was radioactive. Then she stuck out a tentative hand in return, barely placing her fingers in his palm.

The Doctor grasped her hand more firmly, and gave it a vigorous shake up and down. "There. See? We can say goodbye more to your liking." He looked directly at the caliph, a manic grin on his face. "Goodbye!"

Turning rapidly then to Clara, he gave her a desperate look, and belted out one word. "RUN!"

Immediately both of them bolted for the back of the room.

In the sudden confusion, no one stopped them, until the caliph realized his bride was escaping. As Clara and the Doctor passed through the draperies leading from the banqueting hall to the harem, they heard his voice braying out, "GUARDS!"

"Where to from here?" the Doctor asked Clara, as she tugged on his hand, leading him along.

"This way," she panted. They rounded a corner and she came to an abrupt halt, the Doctor crashing into the back of her. In front of them, at the main entrance to the harem, were the two monitor lizard guards. They hissed threateningly at the pair.

"Oh dear," Clara whimpered.

"No problem," the Doctor smiled. He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and started fiddling with its settings. "Most lizards don't have very good interaurul time difference. That's how humanoid creatures tell the location of something by hearing. All I've got to do is increase the frequency of the sonic and scramble the tympanic membranes in their ears so they can't tell where we are. Plug your ears."

Clara put her hands up to her ears, and the Doctor pointed and activated the sonic. Its high-pitched whine increased in intensity until she thought she'd go mad from the sound. It was worse on the lizards; they cringed, shaking their heads and whining. The Doctor pulled Clara's hand, running past them. "C'mon."

They dashed into the harem, to the sound of screams coming from the inhabitants at the sight of a man entering their sanctuary. "Where's the president's daughter?" the Doctor asked, looking around. Clara grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a corner room. "Through here," she yelped.

They entered the room, and at the far end, sitting in a huddled heap on a cushion, was Belletriam. She looked up as they came in, and stood up, fear mixed with hope in her eyes.

"Let's go," Clara clutched Belletriam's hand, and pulled her towards the entrance to the garden. The Doctor followed behind, pulling something out of his pocket. He tossed an object behind them, and the doorway they had just run out of shimmered pink.

"What's that?" Clara asked, looking back briefly at his handiwork.

"A little gift from Victorian Jenny. Bit of a localized force field. Should keep anyone from following us," he huffed, his long gangly legs making him outpace the girls. In moments they reached the trees, and scrambled up. Before too long they were over the wall, and dropping into an alley that ran behind the palace. The Doctor grabbed Clara's hand, Clara held onto Belletriam's hand, and the three of them scrambled down the alley. Unfortunately, shouts were heard from the far end, and guards appeared at the entrance.

"Now what?" Clara cried, desperation on her face. Belletriam looked like she wanted to cry. "They'll catch us, and take us back," she whimpered, looking at Clara. "They might whip us for this." She gave the Doctor a mournful look. "They'll kill you."

"No sense letting them do that," the Doctor smiled. "Especially when I can do this." He whipped out his TARDIS key, and it shimmered golden. In only a fraction of a second, the TARDIS herself materialized around them.

The caliph's guards reached the spot as the last of the TARDIS dematerialized.

Inside, the Doctor danced around the controls, smiling happily. "Next stop, Belletriam's papa! Hang on!"

Clara hugged Belletriam, who had been giving a bewildered look around the TARDIS interior. "I can't believe it's all over," the young teen cried, tears streaming down her face. "How can I thank you?"

"No thanks needed," the Doctor bowed, kissing Belletriam's hand. "Glad to do it." She blushed at his gesture.

"C'mon," Clara tugged Belletriam's free hand. "Let's go take some nice showers, and rid ourselves of these sexist get-ups and put some real clothes on." She led the way down the ramp to the lower level.

The Doctor watched them go, thinking what a shame it was that Clara had to get out of such a…compelling costume. Then he slapped himself in the face. Bad Doctor!

Later, after they dropped Belletriam off and accepted the eternal gratitude of the president, Clara and the Doctor stood in the control room of the TARDIS. The Doctor pulled levers and pushed buttons, starting the TARDIS off on another journey. Clara leaned against a railing, watching him. Once the TARDIS stopped her shaking and they were on their way, she sauntered up to his back, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stood up straight as a ramrod and was very still.

For a time there was only the sound of the TARDIS. Then Clara spoke.

"Did you mean what you said…back there…when you touched me and spoke into my mind?" she quietly asked.

The Doctor took a deep breath. One of his hands came up and touched the arm on that side of his body. Then he slowly turned until he was facing Clara. His arms went around her.

"You…Clara Oswald…are all that to me, and more. You are my destiny. I will follow you anywhere…I am yours forever, or as long as you'll have me." He looked tenderly into her eyes. Clara smiled up at him, and her dimples did that dizzying thing with his insides again. He leaned down and kissed her.

Once the kiss was finished (which may have taken a million years, or maybe just a minute or two, the Doctor was never quite sure), Clara gave him a pert look. "There's just one thing I have to say after today," she smirked.

"What's that?" the Doctor, still looking bemused, asked.

"So much for being a high-minded, above it all Time Lord. It didn't take much to break down your barriers and make you act like any normal bewitched bloke, did it?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Not at all," he sniffed. "I'll have you know I was being very scientific in my evaluation of my reaction."

"And what conclusion did you reach?" she queried, a disbelieving gleam in her eye.

"Inconclusive." He bent down and kissed her neck. "I'll need to do some more testing to get a thorough result."

"I'll be happy to help in your research," she purred.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmured, making his way back up to her lips. "Let's make it more permanent arrangement, shall we?" His lips covered hers, and for a few moments, they tasted the nectar of each other's mouths. Then he whispered against her lips. "Marry me."

"Gladly," she breathed. "Just one more thing."

"What's that?" the Doctor sighed, impatient to get on with kissing her.

She held up her hand. "Remove the homing signal from my palm," she requested, "and tell the TARDIS to make a copy of my harem outfit for our wedding night."

"Your wish is my command," he grinned.


End file.
